Preventive Measures, Corrective Actions
by Jellico
Summary: Prequel. The boys are eager to spend time with Ben when visitors threaten to derail their plans. Will the brothers stand for it? Not likely, but one thing's certain: bad behavior yields consequences, and sometimes that means a trip over Pa's knees.


Hi all. Please note that, once again, I've ignored the series timeline by having the ranch house, as we fans know it, already built prior to Adam's college graduation. I don't quite know how I would explain this anomaly if ever I wrote a fanfic with the boys as adults, but since I don't plan to write such a story, I reckon I don't need to worry about such details. Please don't sue me!

Fanfic Disclaimer:

I do not, in any way, profit from this tale, and all creative rights to the Bonanza characters belong to their original creator(s).

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Benjamin Cartwright, owner of the prettiest piece of land God saw fit to create, was a man definitely well-satisfied. He had money in the bank, his Ponderosa ranch was thriving, and his two youngest boys were happy, carefree, and keeping him on his toes just like they ought to be.

Most important of all, though, his firstborn son was safely back home.

Ben had sent Adam off to college the previous summer with a proud but heavy heart, fully expecting to welcome him again only four years in the future, polished and educated, a young man of twenty-one with a gilded diploma Ben could frame then hang upon the wall. Instead, seventeen-year-old Adam had returned home only nine and a half months later – temporarily to be sure, but home just the same – a victim of circumstance thanks to an outbreak of typhus at his school.

The epidemic had been severe and long-lasting, spreading as far as it did into the surrounding communities (in fact, there were still traces of it back East from what Ben had heard), but Adam had been one of the lucky ones. He hadn't contracted so much as a shiver. When the college administration had done the only responsible thing by canceling exams, shutting their doors until the fall and then making alternate living arrangements for faculty and boarders alike, Adam hadn't thought twice about where he would go and what he would do for the next seven months.

He'd come home.

As Ben sipped his morning coffee now and relaxed with his three sons eating heartily before him, he gazed proudly down the table at his firstborn. Adam had been earning excellent grades before the outbreak, just as Ben had known he would, and this, while he'd worked part-time to support his education. Of course, Ben was pleased his boy had managed so well, but it still hurt him to think how necessary it had been.

Luckily, that was all in the past.

Ben had worked hard while Adam had been gone, picking up the pace threefold upon Adam's surprise return, but the struggle had been well worth it. That the Ponderosa was somewhat barren in places and its borders not so far reaching anymore was all right with him; he could always plant new trees and buy back the land later. For now, it was enough to know he'd achieved what he'd set out to, that Adam had more than enough money to finish college in style – even if he didn't know it yet. Maybe these last few months Ben hadn't spent much time at all with him, Hoss or Joe in his quest to reach his goal, but that, too, was behind them all for good.

The last contract had been signed on Wednesday, and he'd promised his sons that tomorrow their long-awaited hunting trip would begin, just the four of them, with no postponements no matter what. Adam would be turning eighteen in less than two weeks and he'd be on his way back to school barely a month after that. The family didn't have all that much time to spend with him before he'd be gone, so Ben would be damned before he'd skip another opportunity to treasure the boy's company. Already he'd delayed their trip three times but no more was it going to be; he had sworn it. Yes, he had some banking to do and some supplies to pick up in town for Hop Sing today, and he also had some of his tack to repair before he took Buck on an extended ride, but that was it. Within twenty-four hours from this very moment, he and his boys would be riding for Granite Peak, just a father and his sons enjoying each other's presence as much as they could for as long as they could stretch it.

Listening to his boys' breakfast banter now, Ben suddenly decided he couldn't wait until the next morning to start spending time with his sons. So what if he could get his errands done quicker in town if he was alone? Completing his chores in record time wouldn't feel like much of an accomplishment when he was lonely the whole time for company, now would it?

Striving for attention, Ben set down his coffee cup with a clatter then leaned back in his chair. "Well?" he demanded, his eyebrows arching innocently when his boys looked at him in surprise. "Who's up for a trip to town?"

"ME!"

"ME, PA! ME!"

Ben chuckled at the excited responses from his two youngest sons then feigned disappointment as he glanced down the table at his firstborn. "That's funny," he said, making a show of patting his napkin to the corners of his mouth. "I thought all three of my sons wanted to go, not just two, but well, maybe we should all just stay home until—"

Adam cut him off with a smile. "You know I want to go too, Pa."

"Do you?" Ben asked, his dark brown eyes twinkling. "Then where's your enthusiasm, son?"

"Yeah!" Joe piped up. "Where's your in-THOO-siasm?"

"It's right here, squirt." Adam reached over to cuff his little brother lightly upside the head then sat back in his seat, a picture of sobriety except for the deep dimple in his left cheek beginning to peep through. "Ask us again, Pa."

"You sure about that, son? You know, I, uh, wouldn't want to force you or anything."

"Ask."

"All right." Ben stretched his neck to see what Hop Sing was up to in the kitchen then glanced behind him out the window to check the weather. Finally, he faced forward, cleared his throat and paused. Slowly, he let his lips part. "Who's—"

"ME!"

If there had been a chandelier overhead, it surely would have shook. Immediately, Ben's laughter rang out.

"Well, what're we waiting for, boys? Let's go!"

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Just as Ben had hoped, the trip to Virginia City in the buckboard was anything but peaceful. Adam insisted on driving and gave them all a faster, more exiting ride than Ben ever would have, but the patriarch of the Ponderosa couldn't bring himself to mind so long as their horse could take it. He clung to Little Joe on his lap while keeping a hand on Hoss beside him to ensure the boy didn't get bounced straight off the wagon seat, and he laughed right alongside his sons at the exhilaration he was feeling.

In town, after his banking was done and the supplies collected for Hop Sing, he gave his boys free rein to drag him wherever they wanted – or rather, he started to until Adam suggested a quick detour into the Silver Dollar for a beer. No way was Ben going to allow that! Years from now, he would relax his standards some with his younger sons, but that day was still quite a-ways off. He countered Adam's suggestion by proposing sarsaparillas all around at Maggie's Restaurant, pointedly ignoring his firstborn's smirk. No doubt, the boy drank harder stuff than that at college sometimes, but so long as Ben didn't see it happening or even hear about it from Abel, he was more than willing to believe that alcohol had yet to sully his oldest son.

Twenty minutes later, their sarsaparillas had been drunk and the restaurant was starting to fill with early diners. Ben clapped Hoss on the back while he looked to Adam and Joe seated across from them.

"Well, boys? What's next? Shall we stick around here and eat lunch, or—"

"Cass's Mercantile!" Joe exclaimed. "Let's go back there, Pa!"

"And what's there that we missed earlier?"

"Candy!"

Adam made a face at his baby brother "Little Joe, if you think I'm having candy for lunch—"

"Not for lunch." Joe rolled his eyes at the denseness of older brothers. "For dessert."

"Well that figures, but I can think of lots better desserts than candy."

"Hoss and me can't, can we, Hoss?"

"It's Hoss and I," Adam corrected. "And I bet he can."

"Like what?" Joe demanded.

Hoss opened his mouth to list his favorites but Adam beat him to it with a wink. "Like apple dumplings and gooseberry tarts, right, brother?"

"And don't forget Hop Sing's sweet potato pie, Adam." Hoss's blue eyes positively gleamed while he licked his lips. "Ain't nobody can beat Hop Sing when it comes to sweet potato pie."

"But you need a fork to eat pie and you don't need one to eat lemon drops and licorice," Little Joe insisted. "Plus they taste just as good."

"Maybe to you," Adam teased. "'Cause you're only six and you're too young to know good food."

As Little Joe looked ready to call his brother out for that remark, Ben decided it was time he intervened.

"All right, all right. What say we go to Cass's Mercantile first and then we head to the International Hotel for lunch? Joseph? Sound good to you, son?"

Little Joe glowered a second longer than beamed just as quickly. "Yeah, Pa! Let's go!"

They went.

Inside Will Cass's store and faced with a dozen see-through jars just brimming with confections of every color, Little Joe begged for a three-bit bag so he could buy a handful of everything. Ben looked down into his pleading young face and gave in but with the stipulation that he willingly share his treat with his brothers on the way home. Immediately, Adam declared he didn't want any, but on the way out of the store, he changed his mind. He reached over Joe's shoulder to snatch a red jelly bean then popped it into his mouth with a grin, his hand already poised to grab another. Before Joe could squawk a protest or Ben could scold him for eating candy right before lunch, a most disagreeable voice drew their attention.

"Ben? Ben, is that you? My goodness, yes it is! Benjamin Cartwright!"

All heads turned. Coming their way was a fashionably dressed Joan Bancroft followed by what could only be her three girls, none of whom had been seen in Virginia City since Hoss had lost his two front teeth. That was just as well, Ben thought to himself, though of course, he didn't show it. San Francisco was certainly much more suited to the false airs developed by Joan years ago than a boom town as "backward" as Virginia City.

Suppressing his dismay at the lengthy and cheerless conversation that was sure would follow, Ben masked his features perfectly. While his own three boys silently assessed their "equivalents" among Joan's three girls – Adam more appreciatively than he probably should – Ben offered his best smile to the wife of a man who had once been a very dear friend.

"Why, Joan Bancroft," he said, grasping a gloved hand warmly in greeting. "What a nice surprise. How long are you in town?"

"Only for the month, thank heavens."

"Oh and where is Martin?"

"He couldn't join us." Joan pursed her lips, clearly none too pleased. "Business you see. We wouldn't be here either if we could have avoided it, of course, but Mother is ill for the one millionth time in her wretched life – although this time will surely be the last if I have anything to say about it. You still see Tad every now and then, don't you?"

"Yes, I—"

"Well, that dewy-eyed brother of mine insisted I return with the girls for a visit. He actually paid some lummox to accompany us here, if you can believe that! I declare, that stupid boy will be the death of me some day. He's so disgustingly persistent and irrational when it comes to Mother, I simply cannot—"

"Yes," Ben interrupted as politely as he could manage. "I truly am sorry about your mother and I do understand about older brothers. I have one of my own." He gave her a brief but sympathetic smile then turned to her girls with fatherly admiration. "Are these pretty young ladies your daughters all grown up?"

"Yes, these are my girls," Joan said, eyeing them critically, "although two of them are hardly grown up." She gestured to each from oldest to youngest. "You remember Amanda, I'm sure. Her figure is really quite improved this last year. Beside her is Cathleen – she's twelve now – and this is Molly. She's four and quite the handful as you can see."

"Four, you say?" Ben patted Molly's ringlets as she finally managed to wrest her hand from her mother's and passed him by in the beeline she was making to Little Joe. "Well, that explains why I never met this little girl."

"Yes, she came along the year after we moved to San Francisco. Molly! Stop skipping! Young ladies of good breeding don't skip!" Joan modulated her tone quickly at the look Ben was giving her then cleared her throat and held her head high. "Girls, say hello to Mr. Cartwright."

The younger two curtsied in turn, Molly more enthusiastically than her sister who barely bent her knees. Seventeen-year-old Amanda did nothing except nod her head the tiniest bit, her expression faintly bored.

Ben tried not to show his disapproval. He re-introduced his own boys from oldest to youngest as well, noting that only Adam seemed undeterred and remained attracted to what he saw in Amanda. Molly's obvious crush on Joe was turning the little boy off, and Hoss's shy smile of welcome faded when Cathleen curled her lip snidely in his direction.

That was enough for Ben who cleared this throat, intending to make their excuses. Joan, however, anticipated that move and promptly spoke up.

"Well, Benjamin, we were just going to the International Hotel for lunch. Surely, you and your boys will escort us then dine with us? We do have so much catching up to do, wouldn't you agree?"

Ben paused a moment but then offered his arm. "Certainly, Joan. We'd love to, wouldn't we, boys?"

Turning his most charming smile on Amanda, Adam spoke up for his brothers. "Yes, sir. We sure would."

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Within thirty minutes of sitting down in the hotel restaurant, Adam came deeply to regret his agreement.

It wasn't the high-falutin' Mrs. Bancroft that bothered him, or the way she kept comparing the food unfavorably to the delicacies easily found in San Francisco. It was Amanda who was driving him to distraction, the prettiest girl he'd seen since returning to Nevada … and also the most aloof.

Why that was, Adam couldn't figure. There definitely weren't many good-looking or well-bred young ladies her age in town, and on the flip side, if he were being honest, there weren't that many fellows like him around either. He could have made plans with Amanda – away from her endlessly carping mother – that guaranteed a little fun for them both, but as lunch progressed, any plans he was considering fell apart well before they were fully formulated.

At first, he didn't understand it. He knew he didn't sound like a dunce and he also knew that he was handsome – too many girls had turned silly in his presence over the years for him to sport any false modesty on that score – but Amanda flatly refused to look his way. She didn't bat her eyelashes or glance at him coyly like most girls her age would, and she didn't giggle at any of the things he said. Giggle, hell. She didn't even smile or acknowledge him the least bit whenever he spoke!

Stumped midway through their meal, Adam frowned to himself and focused on his food for awhile. He was oblivious to the fact that Hoss was suffering almost equally beside a disdainful Cathleen and that Joe was having a devil of a time ignoring the attentions of Little Molly. When Mrs. Bancroft finally rose from the table in disgust to speak to the chef – insisting that Ben accompany her as a witness to the inedibility of her meal – Adam set down his fork and looked at Amanda, determined to give her one last chance.

The second he opened his mouth, she shot him down.

"Oh, do stop gawking at me, little boy."

Adam's face had never felt so hot. "I wasn't gawking. I was—"

"I don't care what you were doing," Amanda said as turned up her nose and fanned her face with a lace handkerchief. "You haven't a chance with me. You're still a child."

"I am not! I'll be eighteen in two weeks!"

"Like I said, a mere child," Amanda sniffed. "A baby of seventeen—"

"Listen here. You're the same age—"

"—besides which I could never be seen socially with The Uncouth from the wilds of Nevada. Only wealthy bankers and businessmen are for me, you understand. Men with a college education and a future."

Adam opened his mouth to state that he did indeed meet her stupid criteria (or was at least in the process of), but Joe beat him to it. The six-year-old pushed Molly away as she tried to kiss him yet again, his small fists balled in temper.

"My brother IS in college!"

"Really?" For the first time since the Cartwright boys had met her, Amanda laughed. "And what's the little boy studying, I wonder? How to repel prospective wives by smelling like cattle?"

"He DOESN'T smell like cattle! YOU smell like cattle!"

As Little Joe jumped to his feet in defensive of his beloved brother, Adam laid a hand on his arm, forcing him to sit back down. His jaw pulsed as he spoke. "Never mind, Little Joe."

"But she—"

"Little Joe, I said it doesn't matter. Correcting young ladies as ignorant here as Miss Bancroft is not what a true gentlemen does. It's hardly worthwhile."

Now it was Amanda's turn to flush. Beside her, Cathleen shunned their bickering in favor of watching an unhappy Hoss sigh to himself then sit up straight to finish his lunch. As he began to chew, she raked him up and down with her cold green eyes.

"Good gracious, Horse, do you ever stop eating?"

If his pa and Mrs. Bancroft hadn't returned to their table just then, Adam wasn't sure what he would have said or done to Cathleen. All he knew was that it wouldn't have been kind.

Thankfully, lunch didn't last much longer.

Like his brothers, Adam was dead silent throughout the rest of the meal and he was quick to stand up the second it was officially over. On the boardwalk outside, he kept a discreet but very distinct distance from the Bancroft girls with Hoss on his left and Joe on his shoulders, which was about the only place the poor child was safe from young Molly. Adam wished he and his brothers could just walk away, but they couldn't, of course. Pa and Joan Bancroft were still talking.

"Heavens, what a ghastly excuse for a repast," Mrs. Bancroft was saying. "I declare, I can't imagine where that chef was trained. More likely the only training he received was on a cattle drive in the back of a chuck wagon, wouldn't you say?" Suddenly, Joan's scornful expression transformed itself completely. "You know, Benjamin, that unmitigated disaster doesn't compare at all to the fare Martin and I were treated to when last we visited the Ponderosa. Your cook, what was his name again? Hoo Ming? Chop Ding?"

A scowling Hoss couldn't help himself. "Hop Sing!"

As Ben shot Hoss a look, Joan colored but recovered quickly. "Oh yes, excuse me, Hop Sing. Well, he just prepared the most marvelous dishes—"

The woman went on and on at length, her compliments so effusive there was really only one way Ben could respond once she finally paused long enough to blink up at him.

"Well Joan, we'd be delighted to have you join us for supper this evening."

Louder even than Adam, Hoss and Joe, Amanda and Cathleen gasped their discontent.

"Oh no, Mother! We couldn't!"

"Girls, girls, whatever is the matter with you?" Joan scolded. She hissed at her daughters to quiet then simpered up at Ben. "Why, of course, we would love to come, Benjamin. What time shall we be there?"

"Would six-thirty suit you?"

"Six-thirty would be perfect."

"Fine." Ben smiled somewhat stiffly. "I'll send one of my men to collect you, say around five-thirty?"

"That would be lovely, Ben. We'll see you and your handsome sons tonight. Goodbye boys." Joan waved her adieus then ushered her protesting offspring down the street. "Come along, girls. We have much to do."

As Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters swished out of sight down the boardwalk, Adam, Hoss and Joe watched them go with sour faces. None of the brothers was looking forward to hosting yet again the daughter closest to him in age, and they said so, flat out, the moment the Bancrofts were out of earshot.

"Did you really have to do that, Pa?" Adam began.

"Yeah," Little Joe put in from his perch atop Adam's shoulders. "We don't like those girls, Pa. They're mean and –

"And we don't want 'em coming to supper," Hoss added. "Tell 'em not to come."

Ben looked from one scowling son to the other. "I know how you feel, boys, but it won't be that bad."

"Yes, it will!"

"Look, I agree that Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters could be nicer, but I can't very well take back an invitation we just made."

"We didn't make it," Adam pointed out. "You did."

"Yes, I did, young man, and watch your tone with me."

The "yessir" that came next from Adam was grudging, but Ben decided not to push it. He guided his boys down an empty side street where they could talk privately.

"All right, what's this about? Yes, the girls were a bit cold – all except for Molly – but that's not a reason for you three to be so against them, is it? So what did I miss? Did something happen when Mrs. Bancroft and I stepped away from the table?"

Something certainly did. Talking all at once, Adam, Hoss and Joe launched into their separate grievances in great detail, forcing Ben to concentrate in order to pick out exactly what catastrophe befell each son. When they finally wound down, Ben held up a placating hand.

"Boys, boys, I'm sorry that happened. I'll speak to Joan about it tonight."

"A lot of good that'll do," Adam grumbled. "I just can't believe you asked them to supper, Pa. I saw your face when you were talking to Mrs. Bancroft. You don't want her around anymore than we do."

"Adam, she happens to be the wife of a friend of mine—"

"So? Both she and her daughters are bit—"

"ADAM!"

"Well, they are, Pa!"

As Ben took a step towards his oldest son, Hoss spoke up.

"Pa? Why didn't you just ask us first if we minded?"

Ben let out a gusty sigh. "Young man, I have invited many people to eat with us over the years and I have never asked your permission to do it."

"But you never asked people we don't already like."

"That's not true, Hoss. You don't like the minister's son but their whole family has dined with us many times."

"That's different."

"How?"

When Hoss couldn't answer, and Adam couldn't think of a civil retort on his behalf, Little Joe spoke up for both his brothers.

"It just is, Pa, and that's that."

Ben frowned up at his youngest then reached for him and lifted him from Adam's shoulders. "Different or not, Joseph, you and your brothers had better be on your best behavior tonight, is that clear?"

"But we don't want 'em coming, Pa!"

"Nevertheless, they are coming and you will behave yourself in their presence. Do you understand me, Joseph?"

Like a certain sibling before him, Little Joe pouted a "yessir" then he pulled back from his father to retreat by Adam. Ben watched the six-year-old slip his hand into his oldest brother's, which made him all too aware of how unhappy their trip to town had turned. He softened his expression as he bridged the physical gap between.

"Listen, boys, it's only one supper for one night. I promise you we won't see them again before they leave town, except maybe in church on Sundays, all right?"

The boys didn't answer.

Deciding better than to force the issue, Ben led them to the buckboard and watched his younger sons pile in the back. As Adam went to join them, Ben laid a hand on his arm.

"Son, don't you want to drive?"

Adam shook his head. With no choice but to take over, Ben climbed up front and snapped the reins himself, irritated to the core that a woman as simple-minded as Joan Bancroft could wreak such havoc and so thoroughly on a day that had started out so promising.

Halfway home, Ben could stand the thick silence no longer. He put out a conversation starter then put out more, watching them die one after the other, as his questions were answered in monosyllables or not at all. It was an uncomfortable reminder to Ben that his boys could be even more stubborn than he, and to ensure he never forgot it, the moment they reached home all three of his sons fled his company.

Where Hoss and Little Joe disappeared to, Adam didn't know, and for the moment, didn't care. He saddled his horse and broke into a run the moment they were clear of the yard, no real destination in mind except to put as much distance as possible between himself, his father and the ranch house. When he stopped at last, he was irked to see he'd come nearly full circle. He had a back view of the house instead of the usual front, but he could still see the roof tops only a quarter mile away, and if he strained his ears, he was sure he could hear the chickens clucking in their pen.

Why had he come here?

A quick glance around gave Adam his answer. Less than ten yards to the east was the first tree house he'd ever built, his first private sanctuary that didn't have to be shared with Hoss or Pa or anyone else. It was eight years old with flaking shingles and wooden boards bleached almost white, but that was all right with Adam. The crude and aging structure may not amount to much to a stranger's eye, but to him, it was suddenly the only place he wanted to be. He dismounted, ground-tied Midnight to a bush nearby, then scaled the rope ladder still knotted and dangling from the trap-door ten feet above the grass.

When he popped his head inside, there were Hoss and Little Joe. They weren't doing much at all, just sitting on the floor, propped against one wall, sort of moping side by side, and once Adam realized they were basically reflecting exactly how he felt, he curbed the urge to kick them out. Instead, he boosted himself the rest of the way inside and joined his siblings, plunking his butt down to the left of Hoss. On Hoss's right, Little Joe abruptly pushed to his feet, stepped over Hoss and squeezed himself between his two older brothers.

Then the Cartwright boys simply sat.

Two minutes of this, however, was all Little Joe could take and he began to squirm. First, he elbowed Adam "accidentally", then he kicked Hoss in the course of "stretching". He smacked both his brothers in the head with his outflung arms.

"Little Joe!"

"Watch it, Shortshanks!"

"Sorry, Adam. Sorry, Hoss."

But, of course, Little Joe wasn't sorry and he did it again, and then did it again. The fourth time he started to, Adam caught the mischievous smirk on his face and pre-empted him with a tickle attack, which Hoss was more than happy to join in on. That grew into a wrestling match and then a free-for-all, and it was only the creaking of the shaky structure that brought a halt to the fun, the shouting and the laughter.

When a semblance of calm had been restored and the brothers mostly just lay panting together in a heap, Hoss was the first to remember what brought them all to the tree house. He turned his head to the left.

"Adam—"

Adam saw the look on his face and cut him off. "I know, Hoss. I feel the same way you do."

"But those girls, they're the same ages we are."

"Yup."

"Pa's gonna expect us ta entertain 'em all night, ain't he?"

"That'd be my guess."

"Well, I don't want to!" Hoss snapped. "I'd ruther eat cheese six times a day fer a full week!"

"You sure about that?" Adam smirked. "You hate cheese even more than I hate stringy green beans, and the way I feel about green beans … well … that's saying something."

Hoss considered that darkly for a moment then kicked the wall closet to his foot. "Yeah well … I just wish Missus Bancroft didn't have three daughters. Mine doesn't like me."

Adam snorted his agreement. "And mine's stuck up."

"Mine's a girl," Joe interjected, pounding his small fist against the floorboards. "And she won't stop kissing me. Yuck!"

That declaration brought a smile to Hoss's face, but only for a second. Soon, he was on his feet and pacing the small space they were in, scowling harder than ever.

"I never reckoned I'd say this," he said, "but I hope Hop Sing burns supper clear down to the last dish! Then Mrs. Bancroft would leave early 'n take her dumb daughters with her!" Suddenly, Hoss stopped and looked at Adam, overcome by the worst of possibilities. "You think Pa might cancel our trip on accounta Missus Bancroft bein' in town and wantin' ta visit?"

Little Joe shouted a "NO!" but Hoss ignored him, his eyes riveted on his oldest brother.

"Adam? You think he will?"

Adam shook his head. "He wouldn't dare, Hoss. He already told us it was just this one supper."

"So?"

"So why would he lie? He promised us we were leaving tomorrow. Mrs. Bancroft can't stop us."

"Yeah, but Adam, you saw the way she works. She's all pushy like when she wants somethin'. She don't stop yappin' 'til she gets her way and Pa's too nice to tell her no."

"I don't care. I know, Pa—"

"Me too," Hoss said quietly. "And it wouldn't be the first time he cancelled our trip since you got home. He might break his promise to us again."

Adam propped himself against one wall then stared across the room at nothing in particular, thinking hard. When he looked back at Hoss a minute later, his hazel eyes were both intense and determined. "No, he won't."

"But what if she likes supper so much she gets Pa to invite her for every meal? What if—"

"Hoss, I'm telling you that's not gonna happen."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause we're gonna make sure it doesn't happen, not now, not ever."

Little Joe perked up from his spot on the floor. "How, Adam?"

To that, Adam beckoned his brothers closer, a wicked grin beginning to form. When they were both crowded around him, starting to grin now too with anticipation, Adam laid out his plan.

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As Mrs. Bancroft and her crying daughters flounced or fled from the table and out of the house with Benjamin Cartwright in semi-stately pursuit, Hoss's triumphant smile faded and he trained his blue eyes worriedly on his older brother.

"I think we're gonna get it."

Beside him, Adam secretly agreed. Through the open front door, he listened to the departing hullabaloo taking place in the front yard then looked at the remains of dinner, their guest meal clearly in shambles.

This was not good.

He suspected his father didn't much care for Joan Bancroft or her daughters, but no matter what the man's feelings about them, he would never sanction this kind of behavior, not from his own sons. Hoss was right. Pa was definitely gonna kill them for this… most likely starting with him.

With a pounding heart, Adam stood up from the table, intending to clear it and maybe get a head start on making amends. He didn't get far, though. All he managed to group was a single plate and cup before the patriarch of the Ponderosa stomped back into the house.

"UPSTAIRS AND GET READY FOR BED!" Ben roared before any of his boys could say a word. He pointed toward the second floor then jabbed the air at his feet. "I WANT YOU IN YOUR NIGHTSHIRTS THEN BACK DOWN HERE IN THREE MINUTES!"

While Little Joe jumped and began to slide from his chair, Hoss looked at the clock then back at his father nervously. "But-But Pa, it's only—"

"NOW!"

That bellow was enough for Hoss and Little Joe, who both scurried to obey without another word. Adam, on the other hand, stayed put … at least until a very angry six-foot-two-inch figure bore down on him. As his left arm was grabbed and he was hauled across the Great Room toward the staircase, Adam tried to extricate himself.

"Wait, Pa! I don't wear nightshirts in the summer anymore, remember? I can't get ready for bed unless you want me down here buck na—"

Ben cut him off with a spank so loud and painful, Adam actually yelped.

"Ah-ow! Pa!"

"UPSTAIRS, I SAID!"

Shocked into obedience, Adam clutched his burning bottom and did as he was told. In his room, he pouted ferociously at being treated like a ten-year-old, but he also didn't dally. He knew better than that. He stripped to the skin as quickly as he could then rummaged through his bottom dresser drawer where he used to keep his bedclothes. A single shirt remained, thank goodness, a blue-and-white stripped flannel meant for the coldest of Sierra winter nights, but it still fit him so that was all that mattered. Adam yanked it over his head then pushed his arms through the sleeves as he exited his room.

In the hallway, both Hoss and Little Joe were shifting from bare foot to bare foot, waiting for him.

"Adam?"

"What?"

"Did Pa spank you just a minute ago? We heard—"

"Never mind that now, Hoss." Adam was glad the lamps upstairs were dimmed so his brothers couldn't see him blush. "Let's just get back to Pa before he gets any madder."

The brothers hurried down together, and by his massive desk in the alcove, a stern-faced Ben awaited them. The moment his sons stood before him, he paced. Like the proverbial tiger in a cage, he marched from the bookcase to the stove then back again, struggling to calm his temper which could only be described as considerable in light of the abominable display of bad manners he had witnessed this night.

It was bad enough when the boys had tramped into the house almost an hour after their guests had arrived, dripping muddy rainwater from the hog shed and stinking to high heaven, but what the devil did they think they were doing during supper belching on the girls, plucking food from their plates and kicking them under the table?

How could they yawn like that every time Mrs. Bancroft began to speak?

And the insults Adam had muttered all throughout the meal! How dare he compare Amanda's fashionable and perfectly respectable dress to a saloon girl's cheapest frock?

Ben had never been so embarrassed. It was a wonder Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters had withstood as much as they did, and as Ben recalled the final straw that sent young Molly shrieking from the table and her mother and sisters fleeing the house altogether, Ben had to remind himself that his boys were just that: young boys. He couldn't horsewhip them for this, and even if he could, he would never. Tanning their hides with his belt or the palm of his hand, though, that was a definite possibility … but even then he couldn't do it until he understood their motivations and – most importantly – until he had better control of his own emotions.

Abruptly, he stopped pacing and faced his sons, his brows beetled together.

"Adam, Erik and Joseph," he intoned, "if I punish you three right now for your disgraceful behavior during supper, not one of you will sit down comfortably until fall round-up." Immediately, Adam's lips began to part, but Ben shot him a look, warning him not to speak. "As a result," he continued sternly, "we are ALL going to take a break. While Hop Sing clears the table, I'm going to sit in my chair over there and puff my pipe, and you three are going to stand in separate corners and think about the explanation you're going to give me once I let you out."

"What? But Pa, I'm in college now! You can't make me—"

"Adam Stoddard Cartwright, one more word out of you, and you can finish telling me everything you have to in the barn over my knee." As the seventeen-year-old unwisely opened his mouth again, Ben raised a thick finger in warning. "One word!"

It took some serious self-control but Adam got the hint. He clamped his lips together and scowled his way into the corner Ben promptly led him to, his fists balled at his sides while he glared at the brick wall to the left of the gun rack. Behind him, he heard Hoss being marched to the credenza by the front door and then Little Joe being led to the corner by the staircase.

Then there was silence.

While Ben did exactly as he said he would by sitting in his red leather chair, puffing his pipe and forcing his thoughts somewhere pleasant, his boys kept quiet and stayed exactly where they'd been stationed. Little Joe couldn't help fidgeting in his area, of course, and Hoss took to rocking on his heels every now and then, but that was all right with their father. So long as no one whined about their punishment, or in Adam's case, staged an outright mutiny, Ben was just fine with the status quo. He listened to Hop Sing muttering behind him and watched the grandfather clock through the fragrant smoke swirling out from his pipe, waiting for the half-hour to strike. The moment it did, he counted to twenty, set down his pipe, then stood up.

"Boys, come here." Three unhappy faces met his, but he'd expected that. If truth be told, his own face was no cheerier. He pointed to the settee, gesturing for his sons to come forward and take a seat, and the moment they did, he stared down at them gravely. "All right. Explain."

For over a minute no one spoke. Ben looked hardest at Adam, naturally expecting his firstborn to take responsibility for the evening's debacle, but his eldest son was still busy stewing over being made to stand in a corner at nearly eighteen years of age. Sticking close beside him, Little Joe didn't dare say a word. He wasn't used to being the broker when he had two older brothers with a heckuva lot more practice than him at soothing fatherly tempers, and so that left Hoss. The youngster braved the uncomfortable silence to crane his neck down the line, and when he saw the stubborn pout on Adam's face, he sighed inwardly. He chewed his lower lip for a moment then lifted his chin and looked up at their father.

"We're sorry, Pa, but we had to. We had to get shut of 'em."

"Why, Erik?"

"'Cause …well, 'cause we was afraid I reckon…"

"Of…?"

Hoss took in the frown on Ben's face and swallowed hard. He looked once more at Adam, but there was still no help to be had from that direction, so he swallowed again then answered his father's question. "We was afraid of our trip gettin' cancelled."

"And why would the presence of Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters ever cause our trip to be cancelled?"

"Why the hell wouldn't it?" Adam snorted.

"Excuse me, young man?"

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at this father. "Well, why wouldn't it, Pa? You've postponed just about every fun thing you were supposed to do with us since I got home! You always let some kinda ranch business get in the way! You don't even observe the Sabbath with us anymo—"

"We always got to church on our own," Hoss interjected.

"Exactly, Hoss! You're always working, Pa!"

"Adam—"

"Tomorrow was going to be the first time since March that you were going to take us anywhere to do something that wasn't about working the Ponderosa, but what if that Mrs. Bancroft got it into her head to come along?"

"Adam, you know her. You know her type. There's no way she would do that."

"She might," Little Joe put in worriedly. "She said over 'n over how much she likes Hop Sing's cooking, Pa."

"And Hop Sing always packs us good food to eat on the trail," Hoss reminded his father, "in case we don't catch no fish or nuthin' in our snares."

"That may be," Ben replied, slightly exasperated now, "but she still wouldn't come because she and her girls are very much the opposite of you and me. They don't like getting dirty, and they would never dream of sleeping under the stars when comfier alternatives existed."

"Well, who says they had to come along to ruin our hunting trip?" Adam asked then. "All they had to do was invite themselves to a few more suppers while they're here in town, and we'd all be stuck at home until they decided to leave Virginia City."

Hoss nodded his agreement. "And by then you might not be able to get away again, Pa."

"You might have more important business than us," Joe added seriously.

"That isn't possible," Ben retorted without hesitation. "I know very well how much you boys have been looking forward to this trip, not to mention how much I've been looking forward to it too. I told you in town they were being invited for one meal only and I meant that. How could you ever think I would cancel our trip over the likes of Mrs. Bancroft?"

When the boys didn't reply, only looked at him still hurt, Ben sat before them, using the coffee table as a temporary bench.

"Listen to me now," he said quietly. "Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters will never visit us again so you can stop worrying about them interfering in our lives and disrupting our plans. As for me working too hard lately, that's over now, but even if it wasn't, you need to remember that what I do for this ranch I do for all of us. For you and you and you," he said, pointing to each son in turn. "And I even do it for Hop Sing because he's family and I love him almost as much as I love you three rapscallions."

Ben let that sink in a moment then spoke again, his tone hardening. "And speaking of Hop Sing, did you boys think of him at all today? How he would feel when all the work he put in preparing a delicious supper for our guests was abandoned?"

More than his little brothers, Adam winced at his father's words. When they had returned to the ranch in the mid-afternoon – after he and his brothers had made their nefarious plans in the tree house – Adam had come into the kitchen for a snack. He'd seen Hop Sing scurrying from one end of the room to the other, planning a savory menu of corn chowder, roast pork with scalloped potatoes and apple rings, and then cream cherry pie for dessert. None of those dishes was a five-minute affair; each one took over an hour to fully prepare, and yet how had Hop Sing been repaid?

In truth, Adam hated to think on it at this point.

He was definitely responsible for their fall from grace this evening. He'd let his frustration and his fears overtake his good sense, and he alone had planned what they should do to Mrs. Bancroft and her daughters, step by step. Pa wasn't yelling anymore surprisingly, but the way he was talking to them, there would be serious repercussions for today's hijinks all the same, consequences that would probably include a much longer chore list for him, a trip over Pa's knees for Hoss and Little Joe, and who knew what else for all three of them. Dreading what was bound to come, yet wishing it would happen fast so he could stop fretting about it, Adam waited with trepidation for his pa to pronounce sentence.

Unfortunately for Adam's nerves, Ben wasn't quite ready to do that. "Well?" he prompted when none of his boys would speak up. "Did you consider what Hop Sing would think when, thanks to you, everyone would be too upset to enjoy the food he'd spent hours slaving over?"

With both Hoss and Little Joe dead quiet now, Adam reluctantly raised his head and spoke for the group.

"No sir."

"You boys owe him a heartfelt apology, don't you think?"

"Yessir."

Ben stood up and folded his arms across his chest. His expression was understanding but also grim as he focused on each son in turn. "Then go give it right now and explain why you did what you did. You owe him at least that much."

While his older brothers slowly pushed to their feet, Little Joe stayed put, his green eyes brimming with unshed tears. "No Pa, please, we're gonna get the spoon—" he began to whine but that was as far as he got.

Ben reached down and lifted him from the settee, planting him firmly in the direction of the kitchen with a no-nonsense pat to the bottom. "If that's how Hop Sing chooses to punish you, so be it, young man. I expect you to stand there and take it quietly, and that means all of you," he ordered, rising to his full height to stare directly into Adam's clouding face. "Is that understood?"

Hoss and Little Joe sulked but both nodded their heads. "Yessir."

"Adam?"

His guilt temporarily forgotten in the face of this new assault to his pride, Adam set his jaw and refused to reply … until a quick glance at his younger brothers reminded him of his role as the eldest. He was at fault more than they were, so he couldn't take less punishment than they would. It just wouldn't be fair, not when he'd behaved even more childishly than they … besides, Hop Sing wouldn't really spank him, would he? Probably not. He was too old for that kind of discipline and Hop Sing knew it, even if Pa didn't.

Consoled by this realization, Adam relaxed his jaw and straightened his spine, no longer threatened by the prospect of getting walloped on the butt with a spoon by the family cook. He met his father's gaze head on then, stifling a smirk. "Sure Pa, I understand."

Ben refolded his arms across his chest and nodded toward the kitchen. "All right then, go."

Trudging rather than walking in two out of three cases, the Cartwright boys made their way toward Hop Sing's domain and to whatever fates awaited them there. Adam was first, followed by Hoss and then Joe, and of the three, only Adam's hands remained loosely at his sides. As they dragged their feet behind their oldest brother, both Hoss and Little Joe's hands were planted to their respective bottoms, already anticipating the pain that was sure to radiate from there within minutes, they were sure.

For a moment, Ben stayed put by the hearth and watched them go with a glimmer of amusement in his dark brown eyes. Then he let his arms drop and headed toward his desk in the alcove. He kept his ears cocked as he collected the items he was looking for, but there wasn't much need. There was the low murmur of Adam's voice followed by a short but animated tirade in Cantonese, a pause and then more scolding, punctuated by three distinct whacks of a spoon. Shortly thereafter, his three sons reappeared in the dining room, nursing the sore spots Hop Sing had just created, and Ben wasn't the least bit surprised to see a pouting Adam massaging his behind almost as hard as his brothers. Hop Sing was small but he was wiry, and a lick from one of his infamous cooking spoons wasn't anything to scoff at – no matter how old a boy thought he was.

Tempted to comment on what he'd just heard but deciding better of rubbing it in, Ben merely gestured to the three chairs he'd pulled out from the table.

"Sit."

The boys obeyed, but they were clearly unsettled by what lay before them. Where each of the boys typically sat for meals, paper and pencils had been placed in lieu of cutlery and crockery – and this was a sight which did not bode well for three brothers, who were beginning to suspect this night of punishments was never going to end.

Well able to read their minds at this point, Ben didn't let them brood for long. He hurried to position himself behind Little Joe, who had absently begun to doodle, and snatched the pencil from the child's hand.

As he replaced Joe's sheet of paper with a fresh one, he frowned and said, "You boys will now write two apologies each: one to Mrs. Bancroft and one to the daughter you provoked the most this evening. A reason for your behavior must be included and I expect whatever you write to be the truth. No dawdling now; get to work."

Hoss had slumped in his chair midway through Ben's instructions and now he pushed his paper as far across the table – and away from him – as he dared. When Ben came around to his side of the table and forced the paper back within easy reach, Hoss couldn't help grumbling. "Aw Pa, do we have to?"

"You do, young man, unless you want five letters to write instead of two."

"Five?"

"Yes, five," Ben said, tapping his paper. "One to Mrs. Bancroft, one to each of her girls and one to her husband who's sure to hear about this night from his wife and daughters just as soon as they return home to San Francisco."

Eyes wide and horrified, Hoss picked up his pencil. "Uh, two is good, Pa."

Adam and Little Joe thought so too. They snatched up their own pencils and began to scribble, and though Adam especially was loath to tell the truth about his motives for misbehaving, he knew he'd better since Pa was sure to read his efforts before he delivered anything to the Bancrofts.

At the head of the table, Ben sat down as well and began to pen his own letter, this one to Martin Bancroft. He would make his excuses to Joan before she left town, but he wouldn't have the luxury of doing that with her husband for quite some time. It would be at least three more months before he could plan a trip to San Francisco, and good manners certainly wouldn't allow him to wait that long in explaining his sons' misguided actions.

At the other end of the table, Adam took a break from his apology to Amanda Bancroft and sat back in his chair with a scowl, hoping he never again saw the girl to whom he was writing. He could easily imagine the sneer on her face as she read his letter then tossed it aside like so much garbage, her face maybe even wreathed in a superior smile as she imagined him being whipped for what he'd done.

Would Pa lead her parents to believe that's exactly what happened in the letter he, too, was writing?

Adam desperately hoped not, but he dared not find out for sure. It would be oh-so-tempting later to try and sneak a peak at Pa's letter, but if he succeeded in his scheme, didn't like what he read, and then got caught trying to doctor it …well … the very thing Amanda Bancroft fantasized about might just happen sooner than Adam liked. Scowling harder to himself at the stupid fix he'd put himself in, Adam bent over his paper and went back to writing.

To his left, Hoss's expression was no sunnier. The husky twelve-year-old rubbed the fading sting in his left flank and wished Hop Sing had smacked him more, which would have been a sight easier punishment to take than his dadburned apology-writing business. He didn't mind reading so much when the book was interesting, but his grammar skills weren't all that strong and his penmanship always got worse under pressure. He was positive Pa was going to read his letters then make him do them over, and by the time he got done doing that, the whole territory would probably be asleep. On top of all that, he was hungry for that cherry cream pie Hop Sing had made for dessert, but he'd have to be crazier than popcorn on a hot stove to ask for some and expect to get any. Dadgummit!

Across from Hoss, Little Joe swung his legs and chewed his pencil when he wasn't considering how to spell "sorry". He was convinced he had the "saw" part right, but did one "r" come next or two? And just how many e's does a kid had to add at the end to need to make it look and sound the way it should? Was it okay to add more e's the sorrier he was?

Joe looked over at Adam to whisper his question but then reconsidered. Big Brother looked mighty annoyed at the moment and he might just snap at Joe to hush. Joe didn't need him anyway, so there. Lots of e's would mean he was lots of sorry, and Pa and Mrs. Bancroft and dumb ol' Molly just had to be impressed with that. Little Joe filled the rest of his page with e's then sat back in satisfaction. Abruptly, he leaned forward again and added a few dogs and a fishing pole for good measure.

The minutes ticked by but at last, the Cartwrights were finished: first Joe, then Adam, then Ben, then Hoss. As soon as Adam had finished completing his two letters, he'd watched his father under his lashes as furtively as possible, trying to assess if this was all, if maybe – just maybe – this would be the worst of their punishment with no extra chores or barn tannings tacked on. He honestly hoped so. In fact, his hopes were so strong, he rehearsed a short speech in his head while Hoss's pencil continued to scratch against paper, and the very second Hoss grumbled that he was done, Adam launched into his apology.

"Pa, we're sorry," he began earnestly. "We were selfish tonight and we embarrassed the Cartwright name, you more than anyone since you did teach us better. We should have trusted you to stop Mrs. Bancroft from imposing herself on us if she ever started to, since there's no way you'd cancel a trip that means so much to us." Adam stared across hopefully then, his expression as innocent yet repentant as he could make it the way he'd seen Little Joe do a thousand times. "Do you forgive us, Pa? Can we …um … put this behind us now?"

As Hoss and Little Joe mimicked their older brother, Ben had to work hard to suppress a smile. "Your apology to me is accepted."

While Little Joe beamed and began to chatter about the menagerie of mutts he'd used to decorate his letter, Hoss and Adam exchanged glances. That wasn't exactly the answer either of them wanted to hear; their father's response was too cryptic and his face too inscrutable. Sometimes in the past, Pa had accepted their apologies too, yet still proceeded to discipline them, so what did this mean exactly?

Were they still in trouble or weren't they?

Was their hunting trip cancelled or not?

The brothers had no idea, but Hoss, for one, wasn't going to sit back and guess any longer. He had to ask at least one of the questions uppermost in his mind.

"Pa?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"We're still goin' huntin' tomorra, ain't we?"

Ben pretended to consider the question, and with some effort, kept his expression stern.

"Do you deserve to?" he asked. "After the way you three behaved tonight?"

Hoss's face fell. "N-no sir."

"Then it remains to be seen if we will go," Ben said. "If you come downstairs for breakfast in the morning and you spot my saddlebags packed by the door, that will be your answer. Until then, I don't want to hear another word about it." He glanced at the clock and then beckoned to his youngest son, his tone still serious. "It's time for goodnights now, for all three of you. Joseph, come here."

The hour was still early for Adam and Hoss, but they were too unhappy now to care. Deflated, they sunk into their chairs while Little Joe slowly slid from his own then padded over to their father.

Like his older brothers, Joe was no longer smiling. The determined look that he was seeing on his pa's face was certainly one he'd seen before, so he was wary of what might happen next – and he was right to.

The moment he was within reach with both hands creeping behind him, Ben took his left arm and pulled him closer, drawing him over his knees. Whining, Little Joe tightened his grip on his bottom but his hands were just as firmly pushed aside and pinned out of the way. Two spanks followed, in keeping with the two letters Joe had had to write, and then it was over. Before the sting had fully registered and the six-year-old could start kicking and crying in earnest, he found himself upright on his father's lap, his bare feet dangling off the floor.

Ben held the sniffling child to his side and tilted his chin so green eyes met a warm brown. "Next time, little boy, come to me with your fears and I'll tell you if you have anything to keep worrying about. That's what your pa is for, all right?"

"O-Okay, Pa."

Ben kissed the top of Joe's curls then lifted him from his lap. "Good boy, now off to bed. I'll come tuck you in once you're asleep."

Ben waited until Little Joe had scooted up the stairs before turning to Hoss and crooking a finger.

"Erik, come here."

Too worried now to keep pouting, Hoss swallowed hard as he obeyed the order he'd been given. Almost always whenever he and his baby brother were in trouble, Little Joe got spanked first, he got spanked less and he also got it lighter. Hoss was pretty sure this time would be no different.

Bending over his father's knees without protest since he knew it would do no good, Hoss scrunched his eyes tight in anticipation while he held his breath. He bit his lip as a paternal hand connected hard five times with his nightshirted bottom, but as he tightened his muscles in expectation of more slaps to come, there were none. Like his impish brother before him, Hoss was guided upright before the pain could bring real tears and then he was made to sit on Ben's knees, again just like Joe.

"Same here," Ben told him, holding him close. "I will never turn you away, son, or make light of your concerns. Talk to me before things descend to this, understand?"

"Yes, Pa."

Forgetting the likely cancellation of their trip for a moment, Hoss was just relieved his tanning had been so light. His gap-toothed grin stretched ear-to-ear as he returned Ben's hug with typical ferocity and then he ran upstairs to bed with a quick wink to Adam.

Big Brother didn't return it. The seventeen-year-old watched him go somewhat enviously then turned back to his father with a very clear frown marring his handsome features. Pa wasn't really going to treat him now like he'd just treated Hoss and Little Joe, was he? A whipping in the barn at his age was bad enough – even that single slap Pa had given him in temper an hour or so ago had been almost too much to take – but this? A formal spanking over his lap? And while he was only wearing a nightshirt like he was eight years old again? No way! Pa wouldn't dare!

Benjamin Cartwright certainly would dare and he proved it within seconds by crooking the same index finger at his firstborn that he'd crooked at the boy's younger brothers.

"Adam, come here."

Adam set his jaw, his lower lip protruding in a pout. He had no idea how much he was reminding his father at that moment of the cute but stubborn little boy he had been at age three, his tiny foot stomping the floor in temper when Ben had informed him he was too young to attend school just yet. He was too concerned with his own feelings. His heart hammered in his chest at the likely outcome of such a blatant display of disobedience but he shook his head all the same.

"No, Pa. I'm seventeen; I'm not a little kid anymore."

Ben didn't shout or become angry. If truth be told, he was expecting this. While Adam's hazel eyes followed his every movement defensively, Ben stood up, came down to his son's end of the table and pulled Adam from his chair. His grip was gentle but insistent, and though Adam resisted the tugging to his limbs, he couldn't quite bring himself to launch an all out-fight.

Still, he wasn't above arguing.

"Pa, you can't spank me like Hoss and Joe! I'm nearly eighteen! I'm too big for this! Pa!"

Ben didn't try and convince him otherwise. Lord knows with a son as bull-headed as Adam Cartwright, they would both be doddering, gray-haired old men before either one of them would win such an argument. Without a word, he pulled Adam after him back to the head of the table, then took a seat and compelled his seventeen-year-old son over his knees. Although he didn't show it, he was more than a little amused inside to see his oldest throw a hand back in protection like Little Joe.

"No, Pa! Don't!"

Ben's sole answer to that was to move the interfering arm then deliver a spank suitably sharper than the ones he'd given Hoss. This was followed by nine more of equal intensity, after which he helped Adam to stand then sat the boy on his knees for a talk that was long overdue. Immediately, Adam began protesting that he was too big for cuddling like this, but Ben overrode him. He ordered Adam to hush then asked,

"Do I need to repeat what I just told your brothers?"

"No! Let me get up, Pa!"

"Not yet. Stop squirming and look at me, son." Ben had to wait awhile but eventually Adam gave up the notion of trying to escape. When he'd grudgingly made eye contact, Ben softened his tone. "Now I know you feel Amanda insulted you today, but I think your motives for tonight go deeper than that. I get the impression that you, more than your brothers, resent how much I've working. Is that fair to say?"

At that, Adam's whole body grew rigid. He sulked harder and said nothing, his gaze deliberately averted now to focus on the floor. Ben patted his knee and repeated his question, then kept on repeating it until his firstborn finally glared back at him.

"Well, I'm only here for a short while more, and the next time I leave, I'll be gone until I graduate—"

As Adam abruptly grew silent and looked away, Ben saw past his words and his attitude to what was truly troubling him. He reached a hand up to stroke his son's hair, surprised but also pleased when the boy shifted a bit but didn't fully lean away from his touch.

"I missed you too," Ben replied quietly, "more than you'll ever be able to comprehend until you're a father yourself and you've sent your own firstborn off to college. But … there is a very good reason why I've been too busy to make up some of the time we lost, and I've been hoping it was for the greater good. Would you like to know why I've been working so hard?" When Adam only shrugged, his hazel eyes still stubbornly averted, Ben hugged him closer. "It was to keep you from working part-time when you return to school."

Instantly, Adam's head shot back, his gaze intent on his father. "What? But we agreed that—"

"I know what we agreed, but I've reneged on our deal and I make no apologies for it," Ben said with finality. "Your sole job from this point forward is to learn as much as you can, pass your exams, and enjoy your freedom whenever you aren't bent over your books. I mean it, son. That's it. You deserve to have the full college experience most of your friends are probably having—

"But—"

"—and that means having no worries at all except waking up on time to get to class and studying hard to get the best grades you can make, which I know you will."

"But—"

"Stop interrupting. Now the business deals I've just finished closing will allow you to do that for the next three years guaranteed. And," Ben continued with a wink, "there's even plenty of leftover for you to have some fun during your breaks."

Adam shook his head earnestly. "But I don't need to have fun, Pa. I don't aspire to getting drunk every week like some of the fellas at school—"

"Getting drunk is not what I meant by having fun." Ben chuckled at such an unlikely prospect with his conscientious firstborn. "What I meant was joining a fraternity and taking up some of these newfangled sports your grandfather's been writing me about. You know, you, uh, never mentioned them in your own letters home."

"I know."

"Well … can you tell me about them now?"

Stuck between feeling elated and guilt-ridden, Adam didn't know what to reply. For the seven and a half months he'd been on campus, he'd been surrounded by so many boys who'd laughed and joked their way to rowing practice or who'd played football after classes instead of hurrying to their part-time job as a courier. How he'd yearned to have so much flexibility! Still, few ranching boys like him ever saw a college, let alone set foot in one as a student, and so he'd quelled his envy like he knew he ought to, reminding himself day after day that he should just be supremely grateful for being allowed back East at all.

Now Pa had set things up for him so he didn't have to envy anyone, and he could be like most every boy on campus once he returned. He could take things for granted that he'd never dreamed of being able to previously. He could actually stick to one responsibility – and one responsibility only – for the first time ever in his life since Hoss's birth.

How could he ever thank Pa enough for this?

Adam wasn't sure at first, but as he continued to sit stiffly on his father's lap and look into the man's warm brown eyes, he realized there was really just one way to express his gratitude.

He opened up.

He relaxed in his father's arms and told Ben all about the different fraternities at school, including their so-called secret initiations. Together they decided which one Adam might benefit from the most, and then they talked sports, specifically football and rowing crew, the two that appealed to Adam more than any of the other physical activities offered by the college administration. In time, they touched on other subjects before Ben's thighs finally gave out, and then after they'd fetched dessert from the kitchen then moved to the settee to sit side-by-side, the conversation steered back to Ben and his private decision to inflate Adam's college fund.

"Hey Pa?" Adam licked the sweet cherry sauce from his fork then looked over at his father. "When were you planning to tell me that I didn't have to work my way through school anymore?"

Ben smiled from behind his coffee cup. "Oh… probably as you were getting on the stagecoach."

"Pa!"

"Well, can you blame me?" Ben laughed. "That way you wouldn't have time to argue back."

"I guess."

"You guess? I'm positive!"

Adam's dimples peeped through for a minute then slowly disappeared as he thought of something that sobered him. "I feel bad for Hoss and Little Joe."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because they paid for your … neglect … same as me, but they aren't going to benefit the same way I will. I don't really want to tell them I was the reason you were working so hard, but I don't think I have a choice. They deserve to know."

When Ben said nothing, only arched one eyebrow at his son, his expression serious, Adam set down his plate, feeling somewhat defensive. "Well, you have to admit you didn't actually tell us anything before, Pa. You just said we had to trust you."

"And you don't think your brothers will trust me unless they know the whole truth?"

"Well, no, I'm not saying that, sir. I just—"

"Never mind," Ben teased. "I agree with you. Your brothers should know the truth and I'll break the news to them tomorrow morning just as soon as we start out on our ride to Granite Peak."

It took a moment for the implication of that statement to sink in, but the moment it did, Adam nearly dropped his plate. He forgot his age and practically bounced in his seat.

"You mean it, Pa? Our trip isn't cancelled?"

Ben's eyes merely twinkled. "I could use some help getting my saddlebags together," he said casually. "Care to give me a hand before you head on up to bed?"

Needless to say, the man didn't have to ask twice!


End file.
